I laugh, I cry, I feel.

Tell me, what is real?

I live, I hurt, I ache.

Tell me what is fake?

I don’t know all sorts of things;

Why do we have legs, but birds have wings?

How come we don’t know what the future brings?

What is death?

What is life?

How did I end up with this knife?

I’m lost and it stings.

Why do I ruin everything?

I think I’m going to break.

God I wish this all was fake.

Blood on my knees, I’m in a neal.

It was all becoming real.